In view of what has transpired this week in Guadalajara, I thought it appropriate to relate my experiences in using public transit in this city.

I will begin by stating that I have yet to ride on a bus here that would be deemed roadworthy to travel on the streets in my hometown in Canada. While the executive class buses I use for travel between cities are luxurious with amenities such as WiFi and computer terminals at each seat featuring movies and music, the buses in the city are dilapidated and unsafe.

The other day all the main streets in Centro Guadalajara were closed down due to a huge protest of thousands of people. It would appear that the people here are fed up with the dangers of using public transit. They are demanding changes and improvements. And the government has finally stepped in and is taking action.

Back in December of 2013, an increase of one peso was approved, resulting in a full fare of seven pesos. Students, seniors and handicapped would now pay three and a half pesos instead of three pesos. In return, the buses were to be maintained regularly to ensure safety and the drivers were to have certifications and wear uniforms. A third stipulation was that the safety record required drastic improvement.

Effective March 10th, the fares were rolled back to 6 pesos and three pesos respectively. Why? None of the conditions had been met. People were outraged last week when a bus careened into a crowd of students outside of a university, resulting in the death of a young woman. Cause of the crash was an intoxicated bus driver.

I have found bus drivers here to be reckless and distracted. They talk and text on cell phones while driving. They also smoke while passengers are not allowed to smoke. They race each other down the streets trying to pick up passengers. The drivers own their bus and routes. The more passengers, the more money. People are crammed into these vehicles, often hanging out of the open doors and merely grasping a railing. This is extremely dangerous as the drivers speed through the streets, disregarding traffic lights and constantly weaving in and out of traffic. And they lean on their horns in order to vent their frustration. Crashes are becoming far too common.

The conditions of the buses themselves are deplorable at best. There are often gaping holes in the floor and you can see the road below you. Cracked windshields and broken passenger windows are the norm. Graffiti decorates the interior, along with any religious paraphernalia that the driver may choose. Plush dice and stuffed animals are another favorite. The seats are hard metal and often sway as they are not sturdy. The floor above the wheels of the bus is raised, barely allowing anyone to fit into those seats. The buses lack proper lighting on the outside and it is difficult to discern the number of the route. Scratches, dents, front bumpers smashed and drooping as well as broken side view mirrors are extremely common. And of course the never ending loud noise from the brakes grinding in an attempt to stop the vehicle are constantly heard throughout the streets.

 

Guadalajara implemented a first class bus system a couple of years ago called Tur. These are blue buses and are available on a very limited number of routes. They cost twelve pesos. The seats are quite comfortable and they are air-conditioned. But again the same problem with poorly maintained vehicles including inadequate lighting and grinding brakes.

The Macrobus is an above ground rapid transit system that runs along one of the main streets in the city. It has a designated corridor and is a great option. There are two buses—one stops at every station and one is an Express that stops at only a few stations. They run constantly every few minutes from 6 am to 10 pm, the same hours as all the regular buses. There are also feeder buses that go through certain neighborhoods and provide an alternative to walking to a station.

But a dedicated lane does not guarantee safety. Just last week a Macrobus mowed down a cyclist who had strayed into this lane. 

Guadalajara also has a subway system. However I have yet to use this form of transportation, so I know very little about it. I have friends who use it and highly recommend it as a fast way to traverse the city.

Having written at length about the woes of public transport in Guadalajara, there are also features that I enjoy and find amusing.

There are very few designated bus stops here. Basically, I stand on a corner and flag down a bus. They usually stop, although some drivers are impatient and want to get the green light and may speed by. Because there are so few marked bus stops, you merely ask a driver to let you out and they stop and let you off. This may be curbside or in the middle of four lanes of traffic. But it’s usually close to where you want to disembark.

There are no schedules and buses come quite often. This eliminates the necessity of checking online. It’s also quite amusing that when there is too much traffic, the drivers will just dipsy-doodle down side streets deviating from the usual route.

Passengers are also entertained by people who get on and play guitars and sing. Sometimes the antics of a clown are amusing. I feel sad when I see young children come onto a bus and sing, especially at night. These entertainers hopefully expect that passengers will throw a peso or two their way.

There are also vendors who board the buses, selling religious articles, potato chips and candy.

One of the aspects I find quite fascinating is how people board the buses. The drivers are always asking everyone to move to the back of the bus. Many people are reluctant to do so. When the bus stops to pick up people, the driver will often open the back door. I find it amazing that you pass your money up to the front through all these people, and your ticket as well as the correct change is always passed back to you.

When it comes to giving change, drivers are only too happy to give you change if you hand then a five hundred peso note for a six peso fare. Actually, I have seen people board the bus only to get change, and then they get off.

The driver has a tray of money in front of him. Quite often he will leave the bus to grab a taco. The money is there, the keys are in the ignition, and no-one would even think of stealing the money or the bus.

The drivers themselves do not even know the names of many of the streets on their routes. I also question just how literate they are, as they tend to identify their routes by landmarks. And as I’ve said before, street and traffic signs mean nothing to them.

By nature I am a people watcher. People come onto the bus carrying everything from babies to birds. They are dressed in jeans, suits and long gowns. They are students, professionals and laborers. They speak languages other than Spanish. They talk on cell phones, text, play music and watch movies on their phones. People are very friendly and never too tired to say “Buenos dias.”

So despite the craziness and the dangers involved in riding the buses here, they are still my preferred means of transport. I would never consider attempting to drive here. This is a city where lines on the road and traffic signals have no meaning. The lack of rules makes driving here rather precarious. The volume of traffic is nowhere close to being accommodated here by the infrastructure. Drivers here are aggressive and impatient, and I would much rather be on a large bus than in a car or a taxi if a crash should occur.

One of my housemates just returned from Centro and has informed us that once again the streets are blocked off. Another protest? I hope not. Regardless, I will be back on the buses again tomorrow.

 

 

About four years ago I discovered a new hobby called photography. When I arrived in Culiacan I bought a Blackberry and discovered how easy it was to take amazing photos without the hassle of adjusting zoom lenses or flashes. I had never had the patience before for perfecting the art of photography with cameras. Now, armed with my Blackberry, I could point and shoot and preserve memories forever.

 

The above photo was the patio off of my bedroom in my house in Culiacan.

The photo below was taken at Instituto Senda del Rio, where I taught secundaria.

 

Here is the children’s carousel at Forum, the major shopping mall in Culiacan.

 

This is an awesome photo I took at the Art Gallery of Sinaloa.

And of course I also enjoyed taking pictures of people. Here is a pic of my Mexican family back in 2011.

I spent many wonderful weekends in Mazatlan. I was fascinated by all the vendors who roamed the beach, selling everything from fruit to jewelry.

I spent two months in Irapuato in the fall of 2011. This was on display at Plaza Cibeles, the main shopping mall.

I then moved to Tlaquepaque in October of 2011. My students posed in front of a board in the classroom they decorated for Halloween. And yes, we tie-dyed those shirts in class!

In Centro Guadalajara I encountered this delightful creature on Day of the Dead. 

Sunrise over the smog in Guadalajara. This photo was taken on the bridge at Alamo.

These mariachis were performing in the Jardin Hidalgo.

What a spectacular view of the canyon from Mirador!

I retired my Blackberry and got an iPhone during the summer of 2013. And I thought my Blackberry took great pictures………the iPhone is even better!!!

This was the view from my hotel room in Rosarito, Baja California.

Ramon Carona in Centro Guadalajara is home to carriage rides.

Centro Tlaquepaque boasts this beautiful tree at Christmas.

A peaceful scene at Lake Chapala.

Here is a colorful mural from the town of Tequila.

Last month the Virgin of Zapopan parade was held in Tlaquepaque. The priest, followed by throngs of people, marched through the streets strewn with alfalfa to the church.

I was in Tonola last month and this doctor was wandering through the streets offering complimentary blood pressure checks.

Look at what was parked outside my house one day!

I posed with my students and colleagues at a birthday party yesterday at school.

And I will close with a magnificent shot of the sky at sunset the other night.

I hope you have enjoyed viewing these photos as much as I have enjoyed taking them.

Six years ago today I was at home in Oak Bluff baking a cake for Koal’s birthday. Where had the years gone? Our puppy was now fifteen years old. Every year on his big day I would bake a confetti cake with no icing. He knew it was for him and that tail would wag until I thought it would fall off. Sparklers on the cake and birthday napkins were in place at party time. Just look at the anticipation on that little guy’s face!

 

And here he is enjoying his birthday treat!

Little Koal came our way in 1993. My kids found an ad in the paper for silver toy poodle puppies. It was several months after our apricot toy poodle Kelsey went to heaven, and we were finally ready for a new pet.

So off we drove to Gimli. Koal was born in Winnipeg Beach, but the breeder had a pet shop in Gimli. Koal had two very rangy sisters, whom my kids went crazy over. I was reluctant to take on one hyper poodle, never mind two. Koal just sat there, barely moving. The clincher was when we found out his birthday was February 25th. Kelsey’s birthday had been June 25th. It was a good omen.

We had brought along a blanket and Koal sat between my kids very quietly in the back seat on the drive home. He was obviously very frightened at being separated from his sisters and the only environment he had known since his birth.

For the first few days, he clung to my daughter Kimmy. She would lie down on the floor and he would sleep on her tummy. As time passed, he became braver and began to explore our house. But his kennel under the desk in the kitchen was his security blanket. If the doorbell rang or he felt scared, he would retreat there.

His favorite toys were Dolly, a soft plush doll, and a red ball.

He was quite mischievous when he was young. He loved to run into my son Kyle’s room and steal his socks. He would grab the toilet paper in an upstairs bathroom and run all the way downstairs to his kennel.

He was also a very intelligent animal. My kids taught him many tricks including jumping through hoola hoops. Koal loved to jump, and he could really jump high. But when he was quite young he slipped a disc and had to be carried around for several days while his back healed.

Occasionally my kids would tease him. They would tell him he was just a dog, and not a real child like they were. They’d tell him I wasn’t his real mommy, and that he was adopted. Feelings hurt, he would always run to me for reassurance.

Koal really was more like a child than a dog. He had a seat at the dining room table. He had a wardrobe of t-shirts and bandanas. My mother had knit sweaters to keep him warm in the winter. Here he is in costume on his last Halloween.

 

Koal had lots of squeak toys and plush toys to play with. They were always scattered everywhere throughout the house. I had special hampers and boxes for them, but he would pull them out and leave them all over the house. He also loved to chew, and could demolish a rawhide in minutes. This was very uncharacteristic of a small dog. We once returned a Kong to a petstore. This was a chew toy with a lifetime guarantee. It didn’t last a day with Koal!

Koal was a vegetarian which is also unusual for a dog. When we went to a fast food drive through, I would order him a salad. We had to drive to the United States to buy him the vegetarian dog food he liked as it wasn’t sold in Winnipeg. He once hid a large bag of salad I bought at Costco in his kennel while I was unloading the groceries. He went crazy over onions and onion rings, and he loved VJ’s french fries.

Koal was a very special member of our family. My kids referred to him as their baby brother. And Koal knew that Kyle was his brother and Kimmy was his sister. When my kids moved out, I would tell Koal that his brother or his sister was coming over, and he would plant himself in the living room window watching for them.

The final months he was with us he faced many challenges. His hearing was going and his eyesight was failing. Koal also really struggled with anxiety. He didn’t like to be left alone. I bought a Snuggly and carried him around with me quite often when I had to go out. He was a good little traveller and loved car rides.

I will never forget that Sunday morning when I was awakened by Koal. Instead of sleeping soundly at my side, he was having a massive seizure. Later that afternoon I held him in my arms when the vet gave him that final injection. My children were with me and we all had an opportunity to cuddle him and bid farewell to our beloved little boy.

We all have fond memories of Little Koal that we treasure in our hearts. We all miss that amazing unconditional love we felt from our little guy.

Happy Birthday in heaven Koal! We love you and we miss you. Always.

For the first time in my life, I am truly free! What an awesome feeling! And this is how I accomplished this feat………………

In another lifetime, I was the most sentimental person you could imagine. This dates back to my childhood when I was unwilling to part with dolls and toys that I had outgrown. In fact just this past summer I finally bid farewell to “Pinky”, my faithful pajama pal since I was in kindergarten.

Letting go is a process. I took comfort in “things” for a variety of reasons. Of course it took time before I realized and finally understood why I became so attached to “things.”

Definitely there was security when I had familiar items surrounding me. I would take comfort in them and recall happier times whenever I felt down.

Pinky is a good example. I remember going to Ashdown’s with my dad on a Saturday afternoon. He was looking for a tool and I discovered Pinky. My dad passed away thirty-eight years ago, but I always felt that he was there with me because I had Pinky.

My mom passed away eighteen years ago. I treasured all the silver, china, antiques and knickknacks that came my way. And I wrongfully assumed that my children would appreciate having these items.

Apparently something got lost between generations. That something can best be described as “sentimentality.” My children vehemently refused my offers of what I considered to be treasures.

When my marriage ended, these items found their way either into auction houses or thrift stores. And this past summer I disposed of everything that had been in my storage unit since I moved to Mexico more than three years ago.

I must admit that getting rid of the first few items was extremely difficult. But then it gradually became a frenzy of activity in emptying all the bins and boxes of their contents. And the more I got rid of, the better I felt.

I did take photos of many of the items. My friend Carolyn is enjoying the footstool my mom made years ago.

This is the rocking chair I nursed my babies in. This was left behind at the house I rented last summer.

This cup and saucer were always very special to me. Whenever my children and I went to my Aunt Jan’s for a visit, she served tea and dainties. When she passed away, this was one of the treasures she left me.

This Cloisonne urn was a wedding gift to my parents. I sold it on Kijiji to a collector.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea. I don’t have a home in Winnipeg anymore, and a storage unit is just too costly. Let’s face it…..things are just things.

The other day my friend Donna sent me a picture of her granddaughter sitting in my childhood rocking chair. While I had always envisioned one of my own grandchildren sitting in that chair, it gave me great joy to see Donna’s grandchild rocking in that chair.

So how did these feelings of sentimentality evolve into feelings of ambivalence that enabled me to give away or sell items that had been in my family for years? Aside from the economic issues involved in maintaining a storage unit, my children also adamantly refused to store any of these treasures. They made it crystal clear that they had no interest in the antiques and collectibles.

Kudos to my son Kyle, though. I was able to convince him to store the family photo albums and framed pictures. And I did leave him a couple of small storage bins containing mostly gifts that my children had given me over the years. These I just could not part with. Perhaps they will grace my room in a nursing home later on in life, unless by some miracle I actually settle down somewhere for more than just a few months at a time.

And I have also spared my children the heartache of disposing of years of clutter when I am gone. I have vivid memories of doing this when my parents and two of my aunts passed away.

So here I am in Mexico with my life in two suitcases. And it feels great! There is absolutely nothing to tie me down anywhere anymore.

Things are temporary. But what is most important is very portable, and that is the love I carry with me in my heart.

This past weekend I made my annual visit to Tonola. I always think of my Mexican family when I go there. Juan and Lucila travel all the way from Culiacan to find treasures there. And it is a mere 40 minute bus ride from my house in Tlaquepaque.

Sundays and Thursdays are market days. This means that the main street and all the side streets are packed with vendors displaying their wares. This also means that the streets are barely passable with the throngs of tourists and locals who frequent the market on these days.

These figures greet you when you first step off the bus.

Tonola is known for the many distinguished artesans located here. Check out this beautiful glassware.

There are also some quite unusual creations as well.

Scattered amongst all these vendors are numerous food stands serving Mexican specialties from tacos to gorditas and everything in between.

There are also vendors selling fruit, juices, nuts and candies.

And if you prefer something other than Mexican food, there is always KFC.

If you are interested in shoes, clothes or accessories you are in the right place. I won’t guarantee the quality of some of these items though. They are definitely not in the class of Liverpool, a high-end department store here in Mexico.

Pictured below are some adorable baby items.

Flowers are also popular, whether real or artificial.

Many vendors have an array of religious articles for sale.

And a market just wouldn’t be complete without jewelry.

Whatever you are looking for, you are sure to find it in Tonola. Now if I only owned a home here and had somewhere to put everything I would like to buy………….

This is my fourth year teaching in Mexico and my third year living in Tlaquepaque, a suburb of Guadalajara. When I return to Winnipeg to visit, people often ask me if I get homesick. An interesting question as it is often the topic of conversation among foreign teachers here in Mexico.

I believe that home is where your heart is. Born and raised in Winnipeg, I have also spent most of my adult life there. But I have discovered a new life here, one that I have freely chosen, and Guadalajara is where my heart lies now.

Yes, there are many things I miss about Winnipeg. But each time I return to visit, there are so many more things that I miss about Mexico.

My nickname for Mexico is “the land of manana.” I lead a far less stressful life here. I do not miss hectic time schedules carved in stone. I enjoy being able to walk to my favorite restaurants and shops. Here is one of my favorite “tiendas”.

I love strolling down the streets in Tlaquepaque and total strangers always smile and say “Buenos dias.” In Winnipeg people hurry down the streets and seldom even make eye contact.

I admit it. The transit buses in Winnipeg are superior to the dilapidated vehicles in Guadalajara. But nothing runs on timetables here. I go out on the street and wave my arm and a bus stops. There are very few designated bus stops here, unlike the computerized stops in Winnipeg.

 

When it comes to groceries, I actually do most of my shopping at a “tiendis” or local market, rather than at a larger chain supermarket. Here I can buy anything from fresh fruit and vegetables to tools. Not only is the produce of superior quality, but the prices are more reasonable as well. And it is just too much fun bargaining with the vendors!

My kitchen boasts a vintage gas stove with four burners, a small fridge, a microwave oven and a two slice toaster. There is no dishwasher, no Kitchen Aid, no Keurig, no kettle, no electric frying pan, no electric can opener, no toaster oven, no breadmaker. The dishes and cutlery don’t match. There are a couple of pots and a frying pan. There are also minimal cooking utensils. Cooking here is definitely a challenge, but it is amazing what you can conjure up with such limited resources.

 

Eating out is inexpensive.  Two blocks away is Vic’s hamburger stand. Three nights a week he grills a delicious cheeseburger with ham, bacon, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, spicy pickled vegetables and a variety of sauces. It comes with a side of taco chips con queso. The price for this culinary delight is 25 pesos (at roughly 12 pesos to the dollar). He also cooks hotdogs that have all the above condiments for a mere 10 pesos.

Across the street a family cooks tacos and gorditas every morning. The cost is 5 pesos each. Every night the tamale truck circles the block with a variety of tamales that cost 4 pesos each. Four blocks away a lady rotisseries chicken. A quarter chicken with a bag of potatoes, a bag of tortillas and salsa is 25 pesos. A lady down the street makes menudo and another lady, pictured below, makes tortas ahogados.

Centro Tlaquepaque comes alive in the afternoons with a multitude of street vendors selling a variety of foods including salchichas, tortas, pizza, tamales, hamburgers, hot dogs, grilled vegetables and even cotton candy.

And of course there are a variety of coffee shops and restaurants in the neighborhood as well.  

Fast food chains such as McDonalds, Subway and Burger King offer home delivery. Outback has a presence here as does Peter Piper Pizza, Starbucks and other American chains. I very seldom frequent these places as I prefer the local Mexican fare. However I was recently at an IHOP, where I met a new friend who makes balloon animals.

 

Guadalajara has a number of parks and green spaces. Unfortunately, many of the fountains no longer have water due to conservation and cost. But these areas are very tranquil and I often take along a book and read.

Mirador is my favorite with a breathtaking view of the canyon. The canyon is also a very popular place for hikers.

Zoologica Guadalajara is an excellent zoo. There are trains that take you to the various areas and a sky ride up above for a great aerial view. The Safari ride is a must in this zoo. An amphibious vehicle travels throughout an area where the animals roam freely. The giraffes love to stick their heads into the vehicle in anticipation of the leaves we are given to feed them.

 

Guadalajara is also home to numerous museums, historic government buildings and beautiful cathedrals and churches. Many of these are located in the Centro area.

 

Guadalajara boasts gorgeous shopping malls such as Gran Plaza, Galarias and Plaza Andares. These centres contain many high end stores such as Bershka and Hugo Boss, putting Winnipeg shopping malls to shame.

If you are interested in sports, professional soccer teams play here and bullfights are also popular.

Music abounds in this city, with everything from mariachi to live rock concerts. Pictured below is El Parian, a huge complex of restaurants in Centro Tlaquepaque that is home to some awesome mariachi every day of the week.

There are several Cinepolis locations, offering all the current movies in Spanish and English. If you prefer live theatre, a great venue is the Teatro Diana in Centro Guadalajara.

Guadalajara is a very exciting city to live in. Now if only the ocean were just a little closer………………..

Calle Zalatitlan was definitely party central last Saturday night.

The loud roar of motorcycles marked the beginning of the festivities. Here in Mexico a great celebration is held when a girl turns fifteen. It is common to see a stretch Hummer parading through the streets with a young lady’s head sticking out of the sunroof. My neighbors had something different in mind. One of the motorcycles had a sidecar as her chariot. And some thirty other motorcycles joined in the cavalcade. Some of the cyclists sported masks, so unfortunately I did not feel comfortable taking pictures. But it was definitely quite a sight!

About an hour later throngs of people filled the street throwing eggs filled with confetti. 

At the corner I noticed a woman holding a baby doll.

My fluency in Spanish isn’t the greatest, but she explained that this was a celebration of the Baby Jesus. She and her husband were the honorary godparents for a 3 year term.

Another woman held a large basket with several colorful smaller baskets, each filled with candies and peanuts. To my surprise and delight, I was given a basket!

I returned home with the lovely strains of mariachi music fading as the fiesta continued farther down the street.

The third party was a more somber event. When a person dies, a nine day mourning period follows. A large black bow is hung over the doorway. People come to pray in the afternoon and evening. The crowds who come to pay their respects to the deceased spill over into the street. The prayers are often followed by music. Out of respect I chose not to take pictures.

The fourth party on our street that night was the one held at my house. The first people arrived at around 10:30 pm and the last people left at around 6 am. Yes, in Mexico, parties start late and end late.

With the furniture pushed back against the walls in the living room, we had a great dance floor. The music was blaring and the tequila and beer were flowing. People of all ages mingled and danced together.

Two of my housemates also organized a game of beer pong.

I really enjoyed the dancing. I had my second total knee replacement last summer, and this was the first time I danced since the last surgery. And my new knees are awesome! But at 5:30 am I was ready to crash, lol.

So Zalatitan was a happening street last Saturday night. I wonder what this weekend will bring…………………….

For the past five years, I have lived in several different places for varying amounts of time.

When I first separated from my husband, I moved back to Winnipeg and lived in a small apartment. This was the view from my fourth floor balcony.

I had never lived alone before in my life and my daughter thought it would be a good idea for me to have a cat. So off we went to her friend’s farm near Manitou to select a kitten. I named her Vanessa and she was simply adorable!

She was great company. My already cramped apartment became even more crowded with all of her toys and a scratching post. As she grew, she became quite mischievous. Vanessa shredded the screens on my patio doors and bedroom windows. She ripped up the linoleum in the bathroom. And I can’t believe how high that cat could jump!

Vanessa was beautiful, but unfortunately not well suited to apartment life. I reluctantly told my daughter that Vanessa would have to go. Fortunately my daughter was living on a farm in Brunkild at the time, and was able to keep her. Vanessa was much happier running freely about the acreage. Actually, I think I would have been happier in that environment too, but I remained in the confines of my small apartment for a few more months.

Shortly after graduating from university, I found myself on a plane headed for Mexico  and my first ESL teaching job in another country. I lived in Culiacan, Sinaloa for eight months and taught secundaria at a private school. But more importantly, I found my Mexican family.

It was really difficult to leave Culiacan and return to Winnipeg. Reverse culture shock set in and the five weeks were very stressful. I have wonderful friends who took me into their hearts and homes, but it took a lot of moving around as I stayed with six different people that summer.

My next stop was Irapuato, Guanajuato. I was hired to teach primaria in a private school. I stayed only two months. There was no contract made available and no health insurance as promised. And the school added extra hours and activities. When I was offered a job in Tlaquepaque on a Saturday night, I packed hastily and was on a bus Sunday morning headed for Guadalajara.

I began teaching at a language institute where I had students of all ages. I had just settled into the house when the decision was made to move us to a house closer to the school. Time to pack my bags again!

I did stay in that house for just over six months. Until one Friday night I arrived home to find that the street was being ripped up the next day in order to replace the water pipes. Time to move again. I was waiting to have knee surgery and was in no position to navigate a torn up street. Here is what it looked like the day after I left.

With the help of my friend Alfredo, I was packed and in a taxi to Central Nueva within an hour. And then I headed to Culiacan to spend some time with my family.

Then I was off to Mazatlan for a few days of sun and sand.

A friend picked me up at the airport in Winnipeg and I stayed with her for about a week. My daughter asked me to babysit her cats while she was away and that turned into a three week stay instead of only one week.

I then rented a room in a house where I stayed for three months. It wasn’t the greatest environment for recovering from knee surgery. My walker didn’t fit through the bathroom door, the shower was in a bathtub with high sides and there were dangerous scatter rugs everywhere. There were steps at the front entrance that kept me housebound until I was able to give up the walker and graduate to a cane. The house was also in an area far away from my children and my friends. But I was very grateful to find somewhere to stay on a month to month basis for such a reasonable rent.

I then moved into a furnished apartment downtown for two months. It was nice to have everything on one level, including a washer and dryer. And it came with maid service as well.

And then I returned to Tlaquepaque. I moved into a house that I shared with four other people. 

I lived here for almost six months, before returning to Winnipeg via Culiacan and Puerto Vallarta.

In Winnipeg I was very fortunate to rent the most perfect house for recovering from a second round of knee surgery. It boasted a wheelchair ramp, a walk-in shower with a seat, a raised toilet and magnetic accordion doors. And I stayed there for the entire six months!

I returned to Mexico via Denver and San Diego. My goal was to spend the winter in Rosarito in the Baja Norte.

But the housing situation left a lot to be desired. Rosarito can best be described as a “poor man’s Vallarta.”

After five days I headed for Culiacan to visit my family. My nietos had grown so much in just a few months!

And then it was time to return to Tlaquepaque. I am staying in the same house as last year, but with new housemates.

As I write this, I have been here for two months. And I am seriously contemplating moving on in the near future. There is so much of Mexico that I still want to explore.

 

My son remarked that I am a nomad.

Am I? 

I am often awakened early in the morning by the sounds of roosters crowing and dogs barking. Here on Zalatitan my neighbors have roosters roaming in their yards and dogs that run freely through the streets.

 

I also hear the shouts of children as they hurry along on their way to school. Classes begin around 7:30 in the morning and finish early in the afternoon before the temperature soars too high.

The Zeta gas truck passes by, blasting the “Zeta Gas” jingle through loudspeakers. Overflowing with cylinders,  home delivery is the norm.

Other trucks with loudspeakers rumble through the streets, selling everything from mattresses to car parts.

The loud clanging of a bell announces the approach of the garbage truck, a daily occurrence.

Another truck appears and cries of “Agua” fill the air. Water is delivered to your home at the same price as in the store.

The sun shines brightly and it is another glorious morning in Mexico. I open the shutters in the living room to allow the heat and light to permeate the room. I settle down on the sofa to check my email on my iPhone.

Occasionally I am interrupted by someone calling out to me through the open window. Would I like to buy pens with lights on them? Do I need batteries? There is no end to what people will sell here. Just this morning a man passed by with pots and pans. He wanted to trade for gold jewelry! That was a new one for me.

The tinkle of a bell announces that the ice cream man is approaching. He pushes his cart slowly down the street in the afternoon heat.

A man on a bicycle sails down the street calling out ” Hoy! Hoy!” He is selling the daily newspaper. Here he is selling a paper to one of my neighbors.

And soon another truck begins his nightly rounds. “Rico Tamales!” echoes throughout the streets through the loudspeaker.

Another constant sound in the air is music. Everything from mariachi to English rock music is heard on the streets here. And it is often quite loud!

Another common sound is car alarms. A bus that passes too closely will set these off. And the loud bang of fireworks, especially on holidays, is always followed by the noisy car alarms.

What a wonderful symphony created by all these delightful sounds!

 

“To our children we give two things……One is roots, the other is wings”–Anonymous

I love this quotation. The meaning is timeless. No matter the age of our children, it always applies.

I recall when my son was a baby and attempting his first steps on his own. How I yearned to reach out and catch him rather than let him fall! But he soon mastered the art of walking.

And when my daughter was young and terrified of the water, I questioned my decision to register her for swimming lessons. But here she is, only days after starting the classes.

As the years went by there were more and more wings as my children grew and declared their independence. They learned to ride bicycles, obtained drivers’ licenses and eventually moved away from home.

I now live in Mexico thousands of miles away from my children in Manitoba and Ontario. While I bask in the sunshine, they brave blizzards and -50 degree windchills. I realize that to worry about them is pointless, as I have no control over the elements.

And yet the other day I found myself writing an email to my 33 year-old son advising him to take boots and warm clothing as he was headed to Atlantic Canada on a business trip in the wake of horrendous stormy weather there.

Not too long ago, Ontario had a crazy ice storm and there were power outages everywhere. When I finally was able to contact my daughter, she informed me that they were on their way to Toronto to pick up a new fridge. Shivers rolled up and down my spine as I silently prayed that the highways would be clear.

“Wings, Karen, give them wings!” I remind myself. They are adults and can function very well on their own. But in my  eyes, my children will always be my babies forever, no matter how old they are. Perhaps someday when they have children of their own, they may better understand my feelings.

Yes, my children often accuse me of being overprotective and worrying about them too much. And although they may humor me regarding my anxieties, deep-down I think they do appreciate my concerns for their well-being. And here are some more wings for them in the hope that they continue to soar peacefully through life……….

A